


you're safe here

by imbexx2103



Category: DreamSMP, Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, No Romance, Older Siblings Wilber Soot and Technoblade, Orphans, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Protective Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, References to Depression, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Hatred, Trauma, Trust Issues, Whump, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29653035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbexx2103/pseuds/imbexx2103
Summary: tommy has been in foster care for most of his life, not having luck with any of the family's. in fact, it could definitely be considered the opposite of luck. he's had it rough to say the least, leaving him with not only the physical scars of his previous homes, but the mental scars that are arguably more harmful.when he's dumped into yet another home, he doesn't expect anything different but maybe, just maybe he can finally feel safe in a home.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	you're safe here

the boy nervously bounced his knee, one hand lifted to his mouth as he bit his thumbnail anxiously. the hallway lights buzzed above him, driving him slowly insane almost like the noise was getting louder as the minutes crawled past. the door to his left swung open revealing his social worker, his file tucked under her arm, phone in one hand and handbag in the other. she didn’t even look at him while she pressed a few buttons on her phone before shoving it in her hand bag followed by the file.

“okay, get up, let’s go,” she finally acknowledged him.

he scrambled to his feet, grabbing his duffle bag, and obediently followed her down the hallway and out of the building. tommy knew she wasn’t pleased. after all, she had had been dragged back into work in the middle of the night when his foster family –ex-foster family – decided they didn’t want to “deal with this fucking brat any longer”, so she had to find him somewhere to stay for the night. he didn’t know whether that was going to be a group home or a foster home, nor whether he’s being staying there for a few days or as a more long-term placement. but he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask his already displeased social worker.

the pair crossed the car park and approached her car while she unlocked it. wordlessly, tommy climbed into the passenger seat while his social worker got into the driver side and she pulled out of the car park.

she sighed, “okay, so i found a family to take you for the night and hopefully longer.”

tommy looked over at her, eager for any information about where he was going.

“a man named phil, he has two sons, he actually adop-”

tommy zoned out from the rest of what she was saying, only able to fixate on the fact it was just a man. typically in the homes he’d been in, it had been the patriarch of the family to cause him the most harm. the ‘mother’ of most of the households had generally just done nothing to stop their partner’s torment of the child. of course, there had been times where it had been a woman to hurt him, but the one’s that stood out the most involved a man. and this new home he was on his way to had _only_ a man.

“tommy? are you listening?”

he snapped out of his daze, responding quickly, “w-what? yeah, yeah, i’m listening.”

“look, i know you haven’t done great with your past homes, and i know that’s not always been down to you,” she pauses, trying to pick her words carefully, “but please, tommy, really try with this one.”

he swallowed thickly, burying the feeling this caused him deep down. it wasn’t his fault, _right?_ surely he hadn’t done anything wrong, he was all but a model kid, he thought. yes, sure he could be a little skittish and clumsy and was some sometimes a bit hyperactive, but that’s just kids, isn’t it? although, after having this much bad luck with homes, surely some part of it _had_ to be because of him, after all, he was the only commondenominator of each situation.

“i will,” he promises.

the journey is silent from then on, for tommy at least. the radio is playing and his social worker is talking but he’s not really listening, instead just watching the world rush past outside the window. a hand on his shoulder jolts him back into reality.

“we’re here,” she gestures to the house visible through the window on her side.

tommy nods, picks his bag up from the ground and climbs out of the car. she leads him to the door, her hand loosely hanging around his shoulder. the boy fidgets anxiously while she knocks on the door.

a few seconds later it is pulled open revealing a tall man with light blonde hair, lighter than tommy’s.

“mr watson, good evening,” she smiles gratefully at him, “i cannot thank you enough for agreeing to take tommy here so last minute, and so late at night.”

“of course. it’s really no worries,” he assures her, “i’m happy to help. hi tommy, i’m phil. it’s great to meet you.”

tommy didn’t respond verbally, just simply nodded and averted his gaze downward.

_i mustn’t make eye contact, it’s disrespectful. children should be seen and not heard._

the social worker clears her throat awkwardly but phil doesn’t seem bothered by the boy’s lack of a response.

“come in,” phil quickly realises that they are still stood on the doorstep, “can i get you a tea or coffee?”

“oh, a coffee would be great, thank you,” she breathed out.

phil lead them to the kitchen and began making a the social worker a coffee and himself a tea, “can i get you anything to drink, tommy?”

the boy shook his head, still not making eye contact. _seen and not heard._

“okay,” phil picked up the two hot mugs and carried them over to the kitchen table, gesturing for the two guests to sit down. he sat opposite the social worker, while tommy sat between them at the head of the table.

“thank you so much,” she took the mug with a smile, then pulled out tommy’s file from her bag, “alright, so tommy… he’s moved around homes a lot. i have to tell you that his previous home chose to stop having him in their care because of behavioural issues.”

tommy always hated this part. every time he went into a new home, his ‘behavioural issues’ had to be aired to his new foster parents, which gave an immediate impression of him to them. he never even got a chance to give himself a good reputation. not to mention the fact he had to sit there while they talked about him right before his very eyes, which was just plain uncomfortable.

“that’s fine,” phil nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

“as i said on the phone, he’s thirteen-years-old, he’s been in care since he was six. because of all the moving about, he’s pretty good at getting settled, so that’s good,” she told the man. this _would_ be good if it were true. tommy was not good at getting settled at all. he generally chose not to even let himself settle, as it would only be harder on him when he inevitably got yanked out the home. and he rarely even felt safe enough to even consider ‘settling’. but he supposed he needed talking up otherwise no one would want him. after all, what sane person would want a thirteen-year-old boy with behavioural problems.

once again, he retreated back into his mind, letting the adults talk, it was easier that way. eventually he pulled out when his social worker’s chair scrape on the ground as she stood up.

“okay, tommy,” he quickly stood up and she put her hands on his shoulders, crouching slightly down to his height, “be good, alright?”

he nodded furiously and quietly said, “i will,” the first words he’d spoken since they’d entered the house.

she let out a sigh and pulled him in for a hug, “you know my number, call me if you need anything.”

he nodded, letting her embrace him and returned the hug. she was one of the only people he let touch him, she’d been his caseworker since he went into the system and there was at least some level of trust there. the only constant in his life. they parted and phil walked her to the door, tommy hot on his trail. she got back into her car, giving them a wave before driving off.

phil closed the door and turned back to tommy, not expecting him to be so close behind him and jumped back slightly.

tommy stumbled backwards, “s-sorry, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright, mate,” phil assured him softly, “it’s quite late but do you need something to eat before i show you your room?” he asked as they made their way back to the kitchen.

he felt his stomach rumble but not audibly and he shook his head, “i’m okay, thank you.” he wasn’t going to make the man go out of his way, _he wasn't going cause a hassle._

“if you’re sure,” the man nodded hesitantly, “follow me.” phil bent down to pick up tommy’s duffle bag but tommy quickly snatched it up before he could.

his eyes then widened when he realised what he’d done, “i-i… sorry, i’ve got it.”

“you’re good,” phil calmly reassured him, hiding his concern for the boy. while his other sons were a bit skittish when they first came to live with him, this kid was _far_ worse than they were. he lead tommy upstairs and past his other son’s closed doors, his voice stayed hushed, not wanting to wake them, “here we go, you’ll be staying in here.” he walked into the room, switching on the lamp beside the bed.

tommy eyed up the room, it was bigger than what he was used to, but still relatively small, not that he was complaining, far from it. he walked in slowly and peered out the window, taking note of the the roof of the larger ground floor beside it; an escape route if things got bad.

“the two closed doors are my sons’ rooms, my room is down the end of the hall and that last door is the bathroom,” phil pointed at each of the doors in the hallway, “i’ll show you around properly in the morning, is that okay?”

“yes,” tommy nodded stiffly, still immensely on edge. he was completely alone with this man, this stranger at the moment, not that it was a new experience for him.

“great, okay,” phil clapped his hand together, not missing tommy’s flinch at the loud noise, “good night, tommy. i’ll see you in the morning.”

“good night,” tommy squeaked, eyes on the ground until phil closed the door behind him.

the first thing he did was check for a lock on the door; there wasn’t one. figuring phil would be resigning to his own bedroom for the night, he took this moment to look around the room properly; he had a chest of drawers, a bed side table, a simple desk and chair, and a bed. underneath the bed there wasn’t enough room for him to hide, but enough to stash stuff without anyone seeing it too easily. checking the window, he opened it to see that he could easily fit out of it if he wanted to, then shut it again. tommy took the desk chair and propped into under the door handle as his only line of defence if someone were to try and enter his room in the night. finally, he opened his bag and changed into a t-shirt and joggers and climbed into bed after shoving the bag under the bed.

—————————————————

tommy shot up when he heard a knock on the door. for a moment he was disorientated, not recognising his surroundings.

“hey, kid,” a man’s voice spoke from outside, “we’ve got some breakfast downstairs when you’re ready to come down.”

his heart was thumping, hypervigilance flooding through him.

“tommy? you alright, mate?” he asked when he didn’t get a response, or any sign of life at all. when he still received no answer, he cautiously went to open the door, frowning when it only managed to open a bit before getting stuck. through the small crack he could see that the chair had be utilised and panicked that tommy had done a runner until he saw the boy sitting up in fear in his bed.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he scrambled out of bed and pulled the chair out of the way, allowing phil into the room.

“don’t worry, it’s okay,” phil kept his voice soothing, choosing to not to mention tommy's use of the chair, “can you take a deep breath for me, calm down, you’re alright.”

tommy struggled for a minute before his breathing slowed, still avoiding eye contact with his new guardian, “i’m s-sorry, i got confused where i was.”

“that’s alright,” he reassured the distressed child, “hey, why don’t you come downstairs and meet my sons, have something to eat.”

the prospect of meeting another two people made tommy immensely anxious but he didn’t want to further the nuisance he felt himself becoming and nodded.

“great,” phil smiled, leading him downstairs. he’d already spoken to his sons before tommy woke up so they knew the situation.

upon entering the kitchen, tommy was met with the smell of scrambled eggs on toast, making his stomach rumble in protest, and the sight of two older teenage boys, sitting at the table eating. one of them had curly brown hair spilling out of a dark red beanie and was animatedly chatting away to the other boy, sporting a light pink coloured hair, tied back into a messy braid, who didn’t really seem to be listening, but was giving occasional grunts of response to appease the brunette.

they both looked up when they heard the pair entering and the dark haired one stood with a charming smile, making his way over, “hey, you must be tommy, i’m wilbur, great to meet you.”

tommy shied away, backing away from him but nodding in response, as if to say ‘you too’. wilbur was very tall which intimidated tommy slightly, at the age of thirteen, he’d yet to have a proper growth spurt so looked tiny in comparison to wilbur. it probably didn’t help that he was practically a stick after not eating enough in many of his homes.

wilbur looked at his dad in confusion, when he found out they were fostering a thirteen-year-old boy, he’s expected a bit more energy and enthusiasm from him. really, he should’ve realised that it probably wouldn’t be the case right away, especially as he too had been in foster care before phil adopted him.

“will is sixteen, i adopted him when he was eleven,” phil gently told tommy, who nodded again. the father, correctly assuming his other son’s lack of talking, began to introduce him, “and this is techno, he’s seventeen, i adopted him two years before will, when he was ten.”

tommy once again nodded to show he understand, giving techno a nod also as greeting. the older boy, nodded back. _okay, he was easier to deal with, wilbur was very full on._

“you like eggs?” phil asked, popping a piece of toast into the toaster and grabbing the frying pan half-full of scrambled egg off the countertop.

tommy fiddled with the drawstrings of his joggers and nodded at phil who smiled and began dishing up some eggs and buttering the toast once it popped up, gesturing for tommy to take a seat and he did.

“do you not talk or something? are you like mute?” wilbur blurted out, now sat back down in his own seat.

techno elbowed him while phil sent him a glare as tommy curled in on himself.

“if tommy doesn’t feel like talking, he doesn’t have to, wilbur,” phil sternly told him, making sure tommy got the message as well.

the boy’s fidgeting intensified and he grabbed at his own fingers under the table, eyes set on a knot in the wood of the table. “i can talk,” he said so quietly, that the family wouldn’t have heard it if he was any quieter.

“we know,” phil smiled over at him, happy to hear him get the confidence to say even just three words, “but if you’re nervous to, that’s okay too.” he carried over the plate of buttered toast and scrambled eggs and placed it in front of tommy, along with a knife and fork.

“thank you,” he politely said to the man who was struggling to find the ‘behavioural issues’ that tommy’s social worker had informed him of. phil sat down with his own plate of food and began eating.

tommy eyed up his own food, nervously glancing at the others before starting to eat. he ate fast, catching himself every so often and forcing himself to slow down but couldn’t stop himself from speeding back up again. it was instinctual, _who knew when he would next get food? this might even be taken away from him so he had to finish it quick._

while phil understood the behaviour, as much as it saddened him, his sons were just staring at tommy in shock and confusion. when the plate was cleared, tommy placed his cutlery diagonally on the plate.

“do you want some more, tommy?” phil asked, trying to show him that food wasn’t something to be worried about in this house, he wasn’t going to go hungry or not be fed.

tommy’s eyes, for once, snapped up and met phil’s in surprise, as though the concept of seconds was completely foreign to him.

_it was probably a test. probably looking for a reason to get mad at me. asking for more food is ungrateful. i should be thankful i was fed at all._

“i- i’m good, thank you,” he quickly stood up and took his plate to the sink, starting to wash it up.

“oh, you don’t have to do that, tommy,” phil said once he realised what he was doing.

“but-“ the boy froze, confusion evident on his face, clearly conflicted on what to do.

“you can if you want,” phil rushed to assure him, “i appreciate it, but you don’t have to.”

tommy looked between phil and the bubble-covered plate in his hands, “i-i… n-no i need to-“ his breathing picked up, not understanding why his foster parent would say that.

_it must be a trick. he’s testing you again; wash it up._

_but he told me i don’t have to, what if they means he doesn’t want me to?_

he decided it was best to wash it up and quickly place it into the rack on the draining board. without even properly drying his hands, instead just wiping his hands on his joggers, “he made a beeline towards the stairs, stopping in front of phil to utter a quick, “th-thank you for breakfast.”

the family of three sat in silence for a second before techno spoke up, “he seems nice.”

“he seems weird,” wilbur scoffed.

“wilbur,” phil snapped, “that boy has clearly been through a lot, cut him a break.”


End file.
